"We need to get Great Uncle Ford!"
Mabel frantically stampeded down the stairs towards the elevator and began punching in the code to open it.
Even if he was still mad at Grunkle Stan, Ford wouldn't want him dead, right? And he was really smart and buff and had a cool laser gun and stuff, so maybe he and Grunkle Stan could have an epic bonding experience by fighting the robot together, and prove once and for all that they cared about each other! Yes, this was an even better plan than the one she'd been working on all day!
She turned to ask Dipper if he remembered what code to punch in-and saw his legs disappearing back up the stairs.
"Dipper, wait! Just because you beat up one robot doesn't mean you should try to fight all of them-!"
Too late; he was already opening the vending machine door.
Mabel looked back and forth between the two doors, biting her lip as she weighed her options.
Try to reach her buff, giant nerd great uncle who she barely knew and didn't even seem interested in helping, in the hopes that maybe this would finally fix his and Grunkle Stan's issues?
Or go after her noodle-armed brother?
…After one last apologetic glance at the elevator, she ran after Dipper.
To her relief, when they stepped out into the gift shop everything was still standing. No sign of giant robot claws slicing up the house, or of blood. But there was also no sign of Grunkle Stan. And as she pushed the vending machine closed the ground shook again, indicating that the robot was still outside the house.
Dipper and Mabel looked at each other uncertainly, and tiptoed their way towards the living room, holding each other's hands for security.
No damage here, either…except that the window was partly smashed in by a long piece of splintered wood that looked like it'd come from the front porch.
Mabel's tummy felt like Gideon's giant robot hand had wrapped around it was squeezing, way too tight.
And then outside she heard, in rapid succession, the roar of a shotgun blast, the roar of an angry robot, and a familiar voice yelling, "STOP!"
"...Is that Great Uncle Ford?"
Mabel's heart leaped- no, it soared, like an eagle.
He wasn't hiding in the basement after all! He'd probably found out the robot was coming with some multiverse science thingummy, and had gone out to save Grunkle Stan!
Excitedly she ran to the door and threw it open, barely even blinking at the porch being all smashed up; they would definitely have to hug after this-!
Grunkle Stan was out in the yard, being held in one of the giant robot's fists, with Great Uncle Ford standing on the ground staring up at him.
Neither of them seemed interested in hugging.
Rats.
Great Uncle Ford was saying something, but his voice was too low for her to hear it. Based on his and Grunkle Stan's expressions, though, it wasn't exactly the warm reconciliation she'd been hoping for.
…And then the robot's other arm started bending in a way that it didn't look like it was supposed to bend, and the whole robot lurched forward.
"Stop!" Great Uncle Ford started yelling again, sounding kinda scared for the first time since Mabel had met him. "Halt! New directive! Set Stan Pines down!"
Instead of obeying him, the robot made a funny grinding fizzing noise, and then shuddered and jerked a couple times like a confused puppy. Then Mabel thought she saw a few sparks shoot out the top of its head, before its arm made a really big crunching noise and the whole thing began to fall as the metal ripped and shrieked.
"GRUNKLE STAN!"
Mabel rushed forward, starting to draw her grappling hook-but before she could figure out where to even fire it, Great Uncle Ford had pulled what looked like a kind of gun out of his pocket-for some reason Grunkle Stan looked even more panicked when he saw it, but that was silly, he didn't think Ford was gonna shoot him, did he?-and did something with it before aiming and firing.
A kinda blue pulsing light thingy burst out of it and wrapped itself around the robot, bringing the fall to a stop.
Mabel definitely wanted to know what that thing was and where she could get one of them, but she could also see that Great Uncle Ford's arms had already started shaking and the robot was slipping towards the ground bit by bit. And if it fell all the way, both her grunkles would get crushed!
Frantically she looked around, trying to find somewhere she could fire her grappling hook. The roof? The totem pole? Maybe she should just swing onto the robot itself? But what if the extra weight was too much for Grunkle Ford-?!
Dipper was suddenly at her side, pulling her the rest of the way off the porch.
"Aim that way!" he ordered, pointing to a spot just up and to the left of Grunkle Stan's head, "We can grab him on the upward swing!"
Mabel didn't argue; when it came to math and science junk, Dipper was the one who always knew how to figure out stuff like that. She just pointed the grappling hook that way and fired, and wrapped her free arm around her brother.
It was lucky that the grappling hook had such a long reach; there was a crunching noise as it snagged onto something in the trees, and within seconds they were swept off their feet.
Mabel didn't have time to enjoy the rush of flying through the air like she normally would've; instead, for once, she made herself focus on what needed to be done at the moment.
"GRUNKLE STAN WE'RE COMINGGGGG!"
Ford was inordinately grateful to his younger self that he'd thought to include a polarity reversal option when he'd designed this magnet gun.
The obvious downside, of course, being that he hadn't considered needing to hold back something this massive in mind when he was designing it, and he could tell, based on the fact that his arms felt like they were attempting to bench-press an elephant, that it was at best a very temporary solution.
His eyes darted back and forth as he ran calculations in his mind.
Was the arm at a low enough distance for Stan to jump, if he could break out of the robot's grip? Could Ford even persuade him to if it was? Stanley hated heights, he'd gotten stuck on the top rung of a ladder once when they were six and it took Ford almost ten minutes to talk him down, and he hadn't been any less afraid as he got older-but he might not have a choice, Ford could see that the magnet gun's power was already starting to run low and he knew he couldn't keep this up much longer-
"GRUNKLE STAN WE'RE COMINGGGGG!"
Two brightly colored blurs flew past his eyes; Ford barely managed to recognize them as the children.
Huh; I'd nearly forgotten that Mabel possessed a grappling hook. Very resourceful of her.
Their trajectory was just right: within seconds they had slammed into Stanley, and began trying to tug him free of the robot's grip, as he tried to assist them by thrashing and slamming the butt of his (hopefully empty) shotgun against the giant metal hand. The problem was that the robot seemed completely unwilling or unable to let go, and instead tried to pull away, even as its other arm continued cracking and straining.
Neither child was willing to let go of their great uncle, though, and only fought harder to get him free.
Ford looked at the magnet gun, desperately searching for a feature he could use to help-maybe the magnetic pulse? He'd never tried it in reverse polarity before, but it might be better than nothing, and if he didn't do something right now his family could-
More sparks shot from the top of the robot's head, and its voice, even more unsteady and tinny-sounding than before, crackled through its speakers.
"DIREC-DIRECTIVE-DIRECTIVEDIRECTIVEDIRECTIVE UNC-unCLEEEEEAR REVEeeeRTING-TOtoTOto-DEeeeeEEEEFAULT attAAAAACK MODE-"
And then from the back of its head a voice cried, barely discernible above the chaos, "OH NO YA DON'T!"
Fiddleford had to do something fast iffen he wanted ta save not jes' Stanford, but his brother and the kidlets.
It was…hard, makin' hisself get closer ta the devil house. 'Specially now that he could remember why he mostly avoided it, 'cept fer occasions like the wax exhibit and that one hootenanny he'd gone to, back when he could still get lost in the foggy patches where his memories oughta be and not be afeard o' nuthin'.
Even knowin' his robot was goin' on a rampage hadn't been enough ta stop that little terror-fied voice in the back o' his head wantin' him ta skedaddle on outta there and jes' let it destroy the dad-blamed place…till he thought o' the kidlets.
They'd been patient and friendly with him where most folks just wanted ta make the crazy old man who lived in the dump git away from 'em, and they'd actually taken the time ta talk with him once in a while.
And they'd helped git his memories back.
Even if they hadn't been young'uns, he'd o' walked through fire fer 'em iffen they'd needed it.
Besides, Stanford was back, and he was sorry, and he needed his help fixin' what he'd broke with his brother, and iffen there was one thing Fiddleford knew how ta do right, it was fix things.
(Except his relationship with Tate, but it was probably too late for that.)
While Stanford was in front o' the robot, yellin' fer it ta stop its directive, Fiddleford scrambled to the leg it was standin' on and began climbing it.
As he climbed, Fiddleford reckoned it was a lucky thing he hadn't built this here robot with a nervous system like some o' the others; it didn't notice a thing as he finally reached its shoulder and pulled hisself up. There was a panel in the back of its noggin, an' iffen he could jes' get into it he could turn on the manual override, mebbe pilot this thing back ta the dump afore it broke down altogether-
He was nearly thrown off when the whole robot suddenly lurched forward.
With a terror-fied squeak Fiddleford grabbed on with every finger, toe and beard hair at his disposal, and clung till the robot was still again. Then, once his heart stopped tryna break outta his ribs, he slowly sat up and crawled the rest o' the way ta the panel.
Faintly he could hear Stanford yellin' at the robot as he began gettin' it open.
"Stop! Halt! New directive! Set Stan Pines down!"
That ain't a good idea, Stanford…you're givin' him too many conflictin' orders, that's gonna-
He felt the metal under him shudder, and heard the generator thingamajig start sparking.
…short circuit it.
Ah, banjo polish. Forget gettin' back to the dump, I'll be lucky iffen I can get this thang ta the ground safely.
There was another gut-churnin' screech, and another few seconds o' freefall.
It came to a sudden stop again, but Fiddleford could tell without even lookin' that the arm was on its last leg.
…Or somethin' like that.
Finally he managed ta yank the panel off, and began typin' in the code needed fer ta turn on the manual override.
Why in the Sam Hill had he felt the need ta make it so lickety-splittin' long an' complicated?! I mean, shore, it was handy iffen ya needed ta make sure nobody else could steal your robot an' use it for their own rampages through the city, but in sitiashuns like this'n it was more trouble'n it was worth-
The robot shuddered an' jerked, and sparks burst and went flyin' all around him like kettle corn.
"DIREC-DIRECTIVE-DIRECTIVEDIRECTIVEDIRECTIVE UNC-unCLEEEEEAR REVEeeeRTING-TOtoTOto-DEeeeeEEEEFAULT attAAAAACK MODE-"
"OH NO YA DON'T!"
As he pushed the last keys ta complete the override, Fiddleford sent a command ta the right hand: RELEASE.
Followed by an all-purpose EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN.
The robot had time for one final coherent thought-FATHER, NOOOO-before the light in its final eye flickered and died, and its head slumped forward lifelessly.
Unfortunately, at that exact moment the last bit of power in Ford's magnet gun also flickered and died, and the massive mental body broke free of the arm it had been using as a support and pitched towards the ground.
It landed with a deafening crash, not unlike the one of the giant Gideon robot earlier this summer.
Let's be honest, Mabel's grappling hook has far more strength and reach than a normal grappling hook probably has any right to. Especially one regularly used by a child.
...Don't mind me, I'm just gonna insert a few panes of bulletproof glass in my windows and reinforce the doors for no particular reason.
